3.069

14 (Wed) March 2012

Nagasaki Champong

1.5

at Tokyo

-Oksu, Seongdong, Seoul, Republic of Korea-

with W and DJ

The Nagasaki Champon was meh.  The broth was milky white but otherwise demonstrated no depth of flavor. The solid ingredients were mostly limited to cabbage and mussels and squid, none of which was adequately singed/scorched/seared. The noodles were of the thick-squishy udon variety rather than the thin-chewy ramen type. And the dinner menu only offered a double order at 12,000 won, which may not seem like a lot, but it was pricier than the cheaper stuff that had impressed us on our prior visit.

The mood at the table had taken a dramatic dive soon after the arrival of the food.  I ate a piece of tonkatsu. DJ burst into tears, wailing that I’d taken food that he had ordered.  One of the Ten Commandments in our family is not to be selfish with food, to share even if it means going without, a principle that I’ve demanded he respect since he could chew, so I was already annoyed.  But then, W defended him by explaining that she’d promised earlier that he could have the tonkatsu all to himself.  I was appalled by the promise and aggravated once again by her eagerness to excuse/enable his bad behavior.  W grew up under this same mode of parental coddling bullshit (see 2.293 Oden Soup).  In the end, I told W that she’s the worst mother in history and told DJ that I’d shove down his throat any pieces of precious tonkatsu that he failed to finish -at which point nobody really felt like eating.

(See also FOODS)

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